


What happens in Vegas....

by foggysundays



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s07e08 Time for a Wedding, High Sam, Implied Top Dean, M/M, Protective Dean, Spells & Enchantments, implied bottom Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-16 22:11:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11262042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggysundays/pseuds/foggysundays
Summary: Love potions don´t always work the way they´re supposed to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For [this prompt](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/122619.html?thread=43613435#t43613435).
> 
> My first attempt at writting ever and I guess it shows :D  
> Well, I updated this slightly to fix the worst mistakes, and while this is very far from being a masterpiece, it´s still sorta cute, so have fun :)

Las Vegas.

Sam sighed.

Shiny buildings, golden fountains, hundreds and hundreds of people trying to get lucky in more ways than one. He´d always loved their annual trips to Vegas - just him, Dean, some classier-than-usual motel and no supernatural shit whatsoever; it was pretty much the Winchester idea of a perfect vacation. A vacation, _and_ a chance to stock up on money – they´d perfected several strategies for ripping off semi-rich bastards without getting thrown out of Casinos (Dean was perfectly capable of accomplishing that through other means, thank you very much), and they always made sure to earn enough cash to last them a few months afterwards.

Well, not this year. This year Sam simply couldn’t stand the idea of running around Vegas, hooking up with random chicks and getting shitfaced three days in a row. This year, Sam wanted _out_ \- and not the drinking-myself-stupid kind of out, but the being-by-myself-and-relaxing kind, so camping it was. He would´ve loved to have Dean join him, but his big bad hunter brother had decided that nothing in the world could make him trade his “memory foam hotel bed and high-pressure-unlimited-hot-water shower” for “some ancient tent, mosquitos and stones digging into my ass”.

His loss - not for lack of trying on Sam´s part, but even the power-of-the-magic-puppy-eyes had no effect this time.

Naturally, Dean had also flat-out refused to let Sam drive the Impala (“Bears, dude! _Bears_! Or some of those frigging birds that like to chew on cars! I´m not leaving Baby at the mercy of some crazy wildlife, just because _someone_ wants to get back into touch with mother nature!”)

None of Sam’s arguments about non-existent dessert bears had helped, so here he was, on his way to a more or less abandoned parking lot to hot-wire a car.

Sam was still angrily grumbling to himself when an all too familiar scream interrupted his thoughts.

Ah _crap_. _Just_ what he needed right now.

Sam took a deep, fortifying breath and slowly turned around.

“Becky. Hi!”

Dean would´ve recognized the insincerity in his smile immediately, but Becky remained blissfully oblivious. The girl was nearly vibrating in excitement, voice high and way too cheerful for Sam´s taste.

“Oh. My. Gooood. SAM! I am SO happy to see you! What are you doing here? Where´s Dean? Are you here for a case?”

Sam tried his best to answer her questions as vaguely as possible – no need to give her more details than absolutely necessary. Luckily, Becky was not all that interested into Dean´s whereabouts and she soon started chattering about this and that, allowing Sam´s brain to go into stand-by mode. All he had to do was to nod or give an affirmative grunt every once in a while.

 _God_ , he was exhausted. He really needed a few days just to relax. To sleep in, read a book for pleasure rather than research, maybe go for a hike or something like that.

Tiny hands suddenly grabbing his arm jolted him out of his daydreaming, but by the time that he´d caught up with what was happening, Becky was already on the move and pulling him along “to enjoy the best dinner available in all of Vegas”.

Sam hummed happily, he hadn´t eaten all that much today and his stomach was quite on board with the idea of food as well.

Wait.

Dinner!?

With BECKY??!

 

* * *

 

 

Fifteen minutes later found Sam sitting in some ridiculously romantic candle-light-dinner-place, facing a very happy Becky and wondering when his life had actually turned into one of those crappy soap operas Dean loved to watch (His brother still believed that Sam was in the dark about his tv preferences - as if nearly three decades of living together wouldn’t have erased any and all secrets between them! Well…. _Most_ secrets, anyway.)

To his genuine surprise, the food actually tasted amazing and even Becky had proven herself to be capable of holding some interesting conversations (at least when she was not too busy fangirling all over him). It was… nice. In a slightly creepy kind of way.

Sam silently thanked any and all available Gods for alcohol. Yes, he was aware that Plan A had been to _avoid_ drinking in Vegas, but special circumstances required special measures, and surviving Becky´s fangirling without it was certainly the less desirable option. She was constantly trying to touch him, smiling brightly at him and batting her eyelashes like it was going out of style.

During Sam´s toilet break early in the evening (and yes, it was only the tiny, tiny bathroom windows that had kept him from trying to climb his to freedom), Becky had ordered a bottle of red wine and had poured them both a generous glass. Sam was distantly aware that he was gulping down the majority of that bottle all by himself, and if he was honest with himself he had to admit that he didn’t really give a damn.

What Sam _did_ notice, however, was that he was getting dizzy fast. Way faster than he normally would, his body growing hot and buzzy, restlessness increasing and his thoughts going back to Dean more and more often.

He wondered what his brother was doing right now… Drinking? Probably. Maybe hustling pool. Oh yeah, Sam loved to watch that - Dean´s sure, practiced movements, cocky smirk in place, eyes sparkling with confidence. The way his tight jeans would hug his amazing ass whenever he bent over the pool table and…. _No_. No, no, no! Bad Sam, very bad Sam, no way he was going down that bloody road again!

Sam grumbled and poured himself some more wine, draining the remains of the bottle and then announcing to a confused Becky, that he had to leave. Right now.

Becky, who had been shooting him increasingly strange looks, only made one half-hearted attempt at holding him back, but 6ft 4 of determined and drunk moose was no match for her, and so all she could do was watch him leave. The last thing Sam heard on his way out was her voice angrily screaming into her phone.

He immediately decided that camping had been his stupidest idea ever. What the fuck had he been thinking? No, what he needed right now was _Dean_.

Dean and his stupid green eyes and his strong hands and fantastic ass and that thing between his thighs. Oh yeah, Sammy knew about that. He had looked. More than once. Sharing a bathroom for decades had its advantages.  And while his teenage years had been tainted with an acute case of penis envy, his years with Jess had made him wonder and then fantasize about what Dean would feel like. Pushing into him. Splitting him open. Fucking him into next week.

Hells yeah, he would go to their room right now, drag Dean to the nearest flat surface and then find out if reality could live up to the images in his head. He could already feel Dean´s fingers on him, _in_ him, working him open, readying him for that big, fat cock to…. No. He couldn’t do that. No right away. His brother would probably freak the fuck out if Sam moved too fast, and freaking out meant no dick up Sam´s ass.

He sighed.

Yeah, he should ease Dean into it. _Baby steps_ , one thing at a time.

He squared his shoulders and picked up his pace, a plan forming in his head. There were a few things he had to get first, to research, to prepare.

After all, he had a reluctant brother to woo.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was having a shitty day.

It had all started when Sam decided to ditch him in favor of spending their sacred Vegas Weekend in some shitty tent, eating bugs and peeing on his shirt to keep himself from dehydrating (or whatever Sam´s idea of a good time was. That kid had some strange ideas of fun sometimes….).

Come ON! _Vegas_! There was not a lot of time for fun and stress relief in their lives anymore, and all Dean had wanted to do was have a couple of fantastic days with Sam. Get drunk, play some poker, hook up with a hot girl or two.

And judging by Sam’s increasingly short temper in the last few weeks, his little brother really needed to blow off some steam as well, needed to go out there and fuck some hot chick or well, _get_ fucked – Dean didn’t really care, _anything_ to wipe that pissed off look off Sam´s face. The bitch needed to get laid - but good luck managing _that_ in the middle of the fucking dessert, idiot!

Well, since there was zero chance of getting drunk in the company of his brother now, Dean had decided to go out alone. He could do ‘alone’, he was _awesome_ at ‘alone’ – he´d aced the whole lone wolf thing during Sam´s years at Stanford and he was perfectly capable of doing that again!

Unfortunately, things weren’t all that easy. As it turned out, most of his usual clubs still had his face on the list-of-villains-that-will-never-ever-enter-this-building-again, so, no fucking dice. Which meant that Dean had finally ended up in some fancy rich people´s club where he was forced to hand Baby over to some valet. Ah frigging _valet_.

Luckily that punk kid had parked her safely, otherwise Dean would have been forced to have a nice, painful one-on-one conversation with the kid. After all, there where monsters and THEN there were people who hurt Baby. Or Sammy.

His hustle had been quite successful – at least up to the point where some fat rich guy decided that his girl was paying way more attention to Dean than to himself and promptly had Dean thrown out of the club. (Stupid, arrogant dick! As if anyone could really blame the poor girl, Dean´s ass looked WAY better than that other dude´s!)

After that, Dean had successfully found the one burger place in all of the US that had a knack for mixing up their beef and their tofu burgers. Which meant that there was Tofu. On _his_ burger. Yeah, Dean was not a happy camper right now - he was sitting on his bed with a six pack of too warm beer and the remains of that burger abomination, sulking and generally feeling sorry for himself. At least there were some of his favorite Dr. Sexy episodes on tv. Thank god for small mercies.

Dean was just trying to decide if finding some good porn and jerking off was worth the extra effort, when there was the distinct sound of someone trying to pick his lock. A very unsuccessful someone who clearly _sucked_ _ass_ at picking locks. Dean heaved a sigh and got up, not even considering picking up his gun from the bedside table. Anyone competent enough to hurt him would´ve been able to enter his room much more efficiently and silently, no need to go all-out when a few punches would do the trick just fine. So he stumbled over to the door and threw it open, only to find himself nearly staggering to the floor, the entire wet weight of one drunk-off-his-ass moose suddenly in his arms.

Sam´s eyes were shiny and full of happiness when he threw his arms around his brother and contently nuzzled his neck.

“DEAN! Thank God, you´re still here! I was worried you´d be out and I really, really missed you, big brother!”

Dean grunted something vaguely affirmative and did his best to steer his babbling baby brother to the bed in the middle of the room. Jesus FUCK, whatever Sam had managed to do to himself, it certainly didn´t involve alcohol only. He knew that kid, and while Sammy was a freaking lightweight, he usually was more of a grumpy or horny drunk, not so much the over-affectionate and chatty cathy one he was dealing with now.

Ignoring the constant stream of words out of his brother´s mouth, Dean quickly checked him over for signs of drugs or some supernatural weirdness, but apart from smelling like a god damn liquor store, he found nothing suspicious on him.

“Sam, for fuck´s sake, where the hell have you been?! And WHAT are you doing here? I thought you´d be out there by now, poking bears with a stick and.... Sammy?.... SAM!”

 _That_ finally shut him up.

“ _Sam_. What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”

Sam only smiled dopily at Dean and hugged his waist again, snuggling closer.

“I don´t want to go camping anymore, De! It´s not the same without you and I missed you.”

Dean was still suspicious, his brother´s behavior was weird, super weird and all his spidey senses were tingling. Something was not right here, but short of calling Bobby or going all out on supernatural tests, there was not much he could do. Best to just make Sammy sleep it off and have another look tomorrow.

He sighed and did his best to drag Sam under the covers, telling him to stay put and go to sleep like a good boy. Surprisingly, his brother did just that without even a token protest.

Shaking his head, Dean got up and dragged himself to the bathroom first, dutifully checking the salt lines and sigils before slipping into bed, trying to stay as far away from Sam as possible. He should have gotten two beds after all. Just in case. Normally, he would have slept on the floor, sharing a bed with Gigantor over there had stopped being fun right after they´d both had their growth spurts and drunken Sam normally also meant lots of tossing, turning and flying limbs, but for fucks sake, Dean had not paid for this wonderful memory foam bed just to lose it to his brother´s drunk ass. If he didn’t behave himself, it would be _Sam_ sleeping on the floor, but certainly. Not. Dean.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Dean´s awareness only came back very slowly. He felt wonderful, still sleepy, but it was the sort of sleepy you felt after a long, satisfying night of deep, dreamless sleep, not the one that signified too few or restless hours of shut eye. His body felt loose and relaxed and he snuggled back into the warmth of the body next to him, pulling it closer and inhaling the wonderful, familiar smell of that person´s hair. Yeah, definitely something he could get used to. His mind was sluggish still, trying and failing to remember whom he had picked up last night.

Deans let his hands roam further, meeting sleep warm, muscled skin. His partner let out a quiet sigh, snuggling even closer and yeah, judging by that thing poking his side, Dean had definitely picked up a guy. Nothing too unusual in that, especially when Sam wasn´t around.

He´d never tried to actively hide that side of himself from this brother, but more often than not it was girls that struck his fancy - he´d always been way pickier when it came to guys. Not to mention that dear John would´ve had a MAJOR aneurysm if he´d ever found out, so Dean had mostly hooked up with girls during his teenage years. It was only after Sam had left and Dean had started going on hunts by himself that he allowed himself to indulge in that part of his sexuality more often, and after Sam´s return… well, let´s just say that Dean was NOT looking forward to that particular conversation. He just _knew_ that Sam would go out of his way to be as supportive as possible and if there was one thing he´d never be able to handle, then it was Sam wearing rainbow shirts or trying to set him up with guys… not to mention the awkwardness that was sure to ensue once Sam found out _exactly_ what type of guys his big brother was interested in. Hell no!

Dean grunted and shrugged off any unpleasant thoughts – no need to dwell on that, not when he was all cozy and curled up in bed with some hot dude. He slowly opened his eyes, but before he could come up with something to start round one of awesome morning-after-sex (very unusual for him, normally he was more a love them and leave them kinda guy, but occasionally, if the sex was extraordinarily fantastic, he tended to stay for a repeat performance), he managed to get a good look at the guy´s face and suddenly felt as if the rug had been pulled from under his feet (Making him stumble backwards into the abyss. From a 200-story building. Without a parachute). Because that guy pressing his morning wood into his hip while hugging Dean close like a damn octopus, was _Sam_. Sammy. His _baby brother_.

Dean was out of the bed and on the floor in a heartbeat. With his back pressed to the he silently stared at the sleepily blinking form of the other hunter. Sam looked positively adorable, sleep ruffled hair sticking in every direction, still warm and heavy limbed, eyes full of confusion and clearly disoriented. The only thing disrupting this seemingly innocent picture was the massive erection tenting his boxers (and when exactly had Sam undressed himself?! Dean distinctly remembered him still wearing both his jeans _and_ a shirt only a few hours ago!) and the fact that Dean´s own body had already started to respond to the feeling of a hard dick next to his own. Jesus Christ.

While Sammy dear was still busy staring at him, Dean was up and in the bathroom, ordering his brother to stay put and wait for his turn before throwing the door closed and locking it.

It took him a while (plus a freezing shower) to get a hold of himself. What in the nine circles of hell had happened!?

Dean was determined to blame all of this morning’s craziness on whatever fucking spell Sam had managed to get himself into the night before. You just couldn’t leave the damn kid alone for 5 bloody minutes! Damn it!

His hopes of Sam sleeping it off were pretty much out of the window by now, an assessment that proved more than right the moment he left the safety of his bathroom. Even considering his freak out, he couldn’t have spent more than 20 minutes in there. But twenty minutes were apparently enough for Sam to go all out.

There were flowers. Flowers! Fucking flowers and a box full of heart shaped chocolate treats surrounded by freaking plates full of pancakes, bacon, toast and eggs. Two steaming cups of hot coffee were standing next to a GIANT piece of cherry pie (Cherry. _Pie_.) and a box full of donuts. And Sam was sitting on the bed, smiling happily up at Dean and humming along to fucking Ed Sheeran proclaiming his never-ending love from the speakers of his phone.

Crap.

 

* * *

 

 

Three hours later and Dean was nearing the end of his patience.

After another minor, _slightly_ hysteric freak out on his side, he had somehow maneuvered Sam into the shower, thrown all that romantic crap out of their room (not the food, though. He drew the line at wasting perfectly good bacon and pie) and then called Bobby for advice.

After listening to the older man laugh at him for a good ten minutes, they´d both agreed on needing more information. Bobby was going to dig around in his books for love spells ( _Love_. _Spells_. Freaking love spells! Dean had absolutely no idea what he had done to deserve such a punishment, but well, when had their lives ever been fair), and Dean was going to drag his brother around Vegas, trying to backtrack his steps of the night before and hopefully find some clue.

Well, that was their plan anyway. Easier said than done, because Sammy dear seemed absolutely unable to recall more than the most basic things (“I missed you, Dean! I missed you and knew I had to come back and find you!”). So Dean had to painstakingly puzzle things together piece by piece (thank fuck Sam was anal enough to actually keep receipts) and ask people if they´d seen his brother the night before.

It was then that things started to get _really_ annoying.

It began innocently enough with Sam opening doors for Dean and insisting that they´d listen to Dean´s favorite Sabbath tape (Dean was perfectly aware of the fact that his brother hated that tape with a passion).

Sam even bought him an extra-large coffee and a giant donut, _despite_ the fact that they´d had breakfast only two hours earlier. Which was actually rather nice, but then Sam had to go all batshit crazy and pull the whole jealous-boyfriend act on Dean.

See, Dean was a natural flirt. Always had been, always would be. He had learned quite early on in life that his looks got him pretty far, so naturally he played it up. And people were only all too happy to let him.

So when he came face to face with the hot barista who had apparently sold coffee to Sam the day before, he started his usual get-into-her-panties-routine (even better if he also managed to score a number or two, he had a feeling that stress relieve would be in order at the end of this case). The girl responded beautifully, blushing but sassing back – he loved a girl with some bite – before suddenly growing very quiet, staring at something over his shoulder and then nearly running off with an “I think your boyfriend is here”.

And yeah, there was Sam, all 6ft 4 of his intimidating self on display, shoulders tense and the look-of-doom in his eyes that he normally only reserved for monsters (and yeah, _Dean_ ).

Fan-freaking-tastic.

It was only downhill from there. Wherever Dean went, whomever he talked to, there was always Sam, looming behind him like the big freaking Sasquatch he was, all pent-up anger and bitch face firmly in place. Getting people to talk to him was slowly turning into a damn challenge.

The final straw was when some guy accidently slammed into Dean because he wasn´t looking where he was going and Dean himself had been too busy to win another starring match with Sam to pay attention to other people. His not-so-little brother was in the other dude´s face in seconds, seething and demanding an apology from the terrified guy. Dean somehow managed to tear Gigantor off the poor bastard and away.

It was really, really time to go back to the motel.

 

* * *

 

 

Back there, it took all of Dean´s considerable persuasion techniques to make Sam stay put while he went out on a food run.

He should´ve probably thought that one through, because when he came back to the room, Sam was on his knees, surrounded by candles and rose pedals, fucking _serenading_ him (with some terrible, _terrible_ Italian love song…. Dean knew enough Latin to be eternally grateful that he was unable to understand _all_ of it.). The whole act might have worked a whole lot better if Sam was any good at singing, but the idiot was even more terrible than Dean himself and yeah, there was a reason Dean had never pursued a career as a Rock Star (even though he certainly had the looks for it).

For about 2 minutes, Dean tried to decide if this scenario was worth recording – years of black mail material versus Sam´s eternal wrath - but come on, Dean was not _that_ ruthless. He also had to consider the fact that Sam would never let him forget that he, in his spell induced haze, apparently thought of Dean as the chick in this relationship. No chance in hell.

So, this evening found Sam bound to chair in the middle of their hotel room (His little brother was not even opposed to the idea – apparently little Sammy was totally into bondage, who knew? And just Dean´s freaking luck to have THAT image in his head!), while Dean interrogated him. Luckily for both of them, whatever spell Sam was suffering from, it was apparently wearing off – not the love part, but the amnesia part – and after two hours of painstakingly extracting every single memory Sam could come up with, Dean finally had a name.

“Becky. YOU went to dinner with BECKY? Superfan-I-Wanna-Have-Your-Giant-Hairy-Babies- Becky!? Sam, Jesus CHRIST, what were you thinking, you idiot?”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Becky Rosen wasn’t having a good day either.

There she was, all alone in the honeymoon suite of her hotel, just her, her bathrobe and the biggest bucket of ice cream money could buy. Just yesterday she had been hopeful, positive that she´d finally, _finally_ be able to make Sam see, to make him acknowledge his feelings for her… But now?

Yeah, maybe not so much.

She nibbled at another spoonful of ice cream, thinking back to the dinner yesterday and Sam´s weird behavior. He´d been such a gentleman, perfectly nice, if a bit awkward, but that was okay - she was also not all that great at human interactions and this was just one more thing where they just clicked.

But well, the potion hadn´t had the desired effect and though she´d been assured that it should work perfectly fine, Sam had only gotten drunk from the wine.

Then he´d just run off, leaving her behind, close to tears and looking utterly ridiculous all alone at that table.

She hadn´t heard from him since.

A small sob escaped her and she spooned more ice cream into her mouth, just to be interrupted by loud, very insistent knocking on her door.

Her brow furrowed, she definitely hadn’t called room service and there were only two people knowing her whereabouts. One look through the door viewer and her heart seemed to stop beating.

Oh shit. Not HIM!

Another knock, this one even more aggressive, had her taking a deep breath, bracing herself for the assault that was sure to follow and then she opened the door to Dean Winchester. She just had the chance to take notice of Sam, looming protectively at his brother´s shoulder, before Dean pushed inside, closing the door and then turning all of his anger on her. He didn’t even say anything, just looked at her, fury radiating off him in waves.

“I… I didn´t even DO anything! You have to believe me, Dean! I just wanted to make him realize, to make him SEE and then it didn’t work, and I don’t know why and he just ran away and… “

“Becky!”, Dean´s voice was low, dangerous and not even close to the usual slight exasperation he displayed when faced with her fan antics. “I want to, no – I NEED to know what you did to him! Was it some spell? Some freaking potion? Do you KNOW what I had to go through in the last twenty-four hours? Sam is totally out of his fucking mind, he is freaking me THE FUCK out and if you don´t tell me what you did to him, I swear to God….!”

And that was all it took to make her pour her heart out and tell Dean everything. How she was sure that Sam was her soulmate, but he never even seemed to look at her. How she knew they´d make a great team, hunting together, saving people, killing monsters. How she had befriended a guy who offered her a solution to all her problems, a potion that made people reveal their true feelings and how she had decided to use it on Sam to make him finally see her as he should.

“I didn´t MAKE him love me, you have to believe me! Guy assured me that it only works on already existing feelings, but Sam…. he just didn’t react. There was nothing, _nothing_! So I gave him more of the potion than I should have and he just got really weird and then ran off, and I have been so, so worried! I thought maybe it was too much and I... And it´s still not working, he´s still not seeing me!”

Her sobs had grown increasingly stronger and soon her whole body was shaking with it. Becky froze when strong arms suddenly enveloped her and pulled her towards a chest that was not quite muscular enough to be Sam´s. Dean heaved a sigh and pushed some tissues into her hands while awkwardly petting her back.

“Becky, you can´t just make somebody love you, this is not how things like that are supposed to work!” He pulled her face up from its hiding place, made her look him in the eyes. “It would’ve been a lie, no one can force love and deep down you´d always known that this isn’t real. Believe me, it´s better to live with your love being unrequited than to force this on someone. It would’ve killed you, knowing that it´s no more than an act. I know it´s hard to settle when you´ve set your eyes on the one perfect person, but this isn’t meant to be. You and Sam…. It wouldn’t have worked.”

His eyes grew hard again, the surprisingly understanding person before her suddenly transforming back into the hunter.

“And now, tell me about this guy. Tell me about this potion. How did you contact him?”

 

* * *

 

 

Hours later, after Dean had managed to gank that stupid son of a bitch that had given Becky her potion, the brothers were finally back in their motel room.

He had interrogated that fucking demon first, of course. Had managed to find out what spell had been used and that it should wear off in about 48 hours. Sam would be as good as new, maybe a bit disoriented but certainly no longer trying to flirt his way into Dean´s pants.

There was only one thing that wouldn’t leave him alone, that made Dean unable to focus on anything else: the demon hadn’t lied to Becky about everything (And Dean was confident enough in his persuasion skills to know the demon hadn’t lied to him either.) The potion only affected feelings that were already there. Sure, it made people open up about it, even romanced it all up, made them rely more on romantic gestures (or whatever qualified for romantic in their eyes. He seriously needed to talk to Sammy about that particular topic, because singing off key? So NOT a turn on).

But yeah, apparently the potion didn’t _alter_ feelings and that meant….

Dean sighed and looked down at the mop of too long hair that was snuggled to his chest (“Dean, please! I – I just need to be close to you! I feel like I´m going crazy if I´m not and…. No funny business, I swear! I just need to touch you!”), he had never been strong enough to resist those eyes. And it wasn’t as if snuggling close to Sam was a hardship - if Dean was honest with himself, he even had to admit that he craved this as much as Sam did. It felt _good_ to hold him this close, to fall asleep like that, legs entwined, the feeling of Sammy´s strong heartbeat under his palm and his soft breathing brushing Dean´s chest. It was beautiful, peaceful and Dean knew that he wouldn’t find much sleep tonight.

Because tomorrow it would be over, tomorrow they would go back to their old routine, and while he certainly wouldn’t miss Sam looming behind his back and glaring at everyone, he would miss _this_. Being close. Whatever this potion had done to Sam, it certainly couldn’t mean that his brother returned hisfeelings. No way. It must have twisted all the perfectly normal, brotherly love between them into something messy, confused. Added those romantic ideas and mixed it all up.

Dean pulled his brother closer, inhaled his familiar scent and just hoped that whatever happened tomorrow wouldn’t mess them up completely.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam snuggled closer into the covers, pressing himself deeper into the residual body heat left in the sheets next to him. God, this bed was awesome! No wonder Dean always waxed poetics about his matrass back home! He felt like he could stay right here forever, just enjoying his sleepiness, the faint smell of Dean on the sheets making him feel protected. Safe. Home.

 _Dean_.

Sam´s eyes shot open, his whole body going rigid, breathing speeding up, brain flooding him with memories. Of Becky, dinner, of him feeling like he would burst if couldn’t be with Dean right this very minute. Of coming back, telling his brother he´d missed him and then… Oh God, what had he done!

Sam remembered _everything_ , every detail crystal clear in his head. Memories of him pretty much humping Dean, the shocked look on his brothers face when he noticed. His behavior in the café, the fucking LOVESONG. Sam cringed, frantically trying to remember if there was any way at all he could blame his behavior on that fucking potion. He would be able to withstand Dean´s ridicule at his drugged antics, but if his brother ever found out that the feelings behind all of that had been genuine…

“…it only works on already existing feelings…”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, FUCK! Sam was screwed! No way in hell Dean didn’t get that, didn’t understand just how twisted and sick Sam´s idea of brotherly love was. How twisted SAM was. Fuck, his brother would hate him, would be disgusted by him. Dean would _leave_ and Sam would be alone, and this time there was nothing that could bring Dean back, _nothing_ to erase those memories, nothing to make him forget, to make them brothers again. No, Sam had fucked everything up for good now, no way Dean could accept that. Dean would hate him and...

 “SAMMY!!”

There were hands on his shoulders, hands on his face. Turning him, gently coaxing his eyes up and up till they were met with brilliant green, shadowed with concern and fear, his brothers voice slowly dragging him back from the panic attack he had felt himself fall into.

“Shhh, it´s okay Sammy, I´m here now! Just try to slow your breathing down … that´s it, baby boy! You got it! Just try to breathe, follow my lead. God, you´re shaking, Sam! Is it the spell?! Do you feel sick, Sam? I swear to God, if that stupid son of a bitch forgot to mention the side effects of his freaking potion, I will personally go down to whatever hell dead demons go, yank him out and fucking kill him AGAIN!”

Despite himself, Sam couldn’t help but smile at his brother´s outrage. If there as one thing he had always been able to count on, then it was Dean´s righteous fury raining down on anyone who dared to hurt Sam - even when it had been Sam himself doing the hurting. That thought sobered him up again and he swallowed, trying to think of something to say.  Dean was still touching him – one of his hands cupping his neck, the other his cheek.

“You with me again, Sam?”

Sam nodded, taking a deep breath before forcing his words out. Better to get it over with.

“Yeah…. Dean. Listen: I´m sorry. For everything. For leaving you here and just running off and well, also for yesterday. _Especially_ for yesterday. I remember it, everything, every detail. I messed up again and I´m sorry you had to deal with that. I know we both know that it was not only the spell making me do all this stuff, but I never…. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. And I´m sorry you had to find out like this, I never meant for you to know - or for me to act on it, for that matter. So yeah, you are my brother and I love you, but… I´m also _in_ love with you, Dean. Have been for years. And I know there never was any chance of this being more than it already is. And I´m perfectly happy to keep it that way. But I also understand that you might need time or… that you can no longer do this when I – I guess what I´m trying to say is: I´m sorry for messing this up even more. And I will do whatever you want me to do. Try to forget it, keep my distance for a while. But please, don’t cut me out completely, you´re the only thing I have left and - “

“Sammy!” Dean´s voice was gentle, caught between sadness and amusement. “You are stammering, bro. Come on, focus, I´m not gonna run or punch you, promise! Just open those eyes again, come on, look at me!”

Taking a deep breath and trying to feel hopeful due to Dean´s distinct lack of running, Sam looked up. To his surprise, there was no disgust in his brother´s eyes, no anger or ridicule, just an earnest, open expression and something else he couldn’t quite identify.

“Did you mean it, Sammy? What you just said? About loving me? Being in love with me?”

Sam flinched, but nodded, holding the other´s gaze.

“Yeah, I did. You are everything, Dean. Everything for me. I know you don’t feel the same way, and that’s okay, _we_ can be okay if you want. But if you want me to leave, I….”

He didn’t get further than that, because suddenly there were lips gently covering his own, coaxing him into movement.

Dean was kissing him.

Dean. Was. Fucking. _Kissing_. Him.

And it was nothing like he´d imagined their first kiss to be, there was no scorching heat and blinding passion, nothing frantic or hurried about it. No, Dean was kissing him like he was the single most perfect being in the whole world, like he was something precious, like he wanted to savor his taste, commit every detail to memory.

It was slow, tender and strangely grounding and when it ended, Sam couldn’t help but chase his brother´s lips. Dean didn’t allow that, but didn’t go far either, just rested their foreheads together, still close enough to share breath.

“You are such an idiot, Sammy! I´m not just gonna leave you! Always together, remember? And well, same here. I…  I love you too, bitch. I´m in love with you as well. I´m not going anywhere, baby brother, promise.”

Sam´s breath hitched, his eyes searching his brother´s for any kind of deceit, for any kind of sign that Dean was just saying this to placate him, to spare him from any kind of pain even at the expense of his own wellbeing, but there was nothing, nothing but genuine love and affection, still shadowed by concern.

“You really mean that”

A snort. “Of fucking course I do. Why would I lie about something like that?

“Then show me, Dean. Make love to me!”

Dean just stared at him for a moment. And stared some more. Then he started sniggering, which soon turned into a full on whole body laugh that had Dean nearly falling off the bed and Sam practicing his newest bitch-face-creation (Number 425 – The Quit-fucking-around-and-fuck-me- face).

“Holy hell, Sammy! I think that potion is still not out of your system! Make love to me, huh? Jesus, that is way to fucking cheesy! And a freaking bad idea anyway, because you, little bro, have eaten hardly anything in the last two days, you really, really need a shower and a tooth brush and I am so not touching you before those three things have been taken care of. So off you go, I´ll be right back with some breakfast.”

A lingering kiss was pressed to his lips and then Sam was alone. How on earth had he managed to fall in love with such an idiot?

 

* * *

 

 

Half an hour later found the two of them sitting on a bed, munching breakfast. Sam had to admit that his brother might have been right; food was freaking awesome and he certainly had been starving.

 “Well,” Dean must have been a chipmunk in some former life, no one should be able to talk with the amount of food currently stuffed into his cheeks, “our schedule for today -  Sam! I had to drag your giant ass through all of Vegas yesterday, you fucking owe me one! So, today I want us to go to that strip club three blocks from the Hilton. You know which one I mean, Sammy, the one with the three-breasted-stripper-lady. Hell yeah, you gotta love some extra cushions to play with. And quit that bitch face, I just proclaimed my eternal gay incestuous love to you like five minutes ago, the least you could do is trust me and let me perv on people who have three times the tits you will ever have! If I´m never gonna touch one of those again, I want some last-minute staring!”

Sam groaned, “Jesus, okay! I get it. Let´s go drool at the poor lady if it makes you feel better, jerk! But as far as I remember, her show starts at 8 every night! What are we gonna do in the meantime, huh? Stay here and stare at her online adds?”  

Dean´s answering smile was positively predatory, his eyes blazing dangerously as he pushed Sam back and crawled on top of him.

“Well, baby bro, right now I´m gonna suck your fucking brains right out of your dick. Then, I´m going to open you up nice and slow till you are leaking and begging for it and then I´m going to fuck you so hard that you won´t be able to walk straight for at least a week. Sounds good?”

Sam could only nod weakly and surrender himself to his brother´s mercy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And well, that´s it :) Thank you guys so much for reading and leaving Kudos and for all those lovely comments! You made my day! Lots of love!!


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